


Freedom

by MaverikLoki



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [29]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mav abuses her Classics degree, sweet lord the schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5862052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverikLoki/pseuds/MaverikLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artemis Hawke can't understand Tevene, but he loves how it sounds when Fenris growls it into his ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Some schmoop to offset the angst I usually write...

Fenris was free. Technically he had been free for a few months now, but he still grappled with what that meant. It was not belonging to Danarius, of course, or to anyone, but that only told him what freedom was _not_.

But on a lazy Saturday morning, with the sun cutting swatches of light across the sheets, Fenris decided that freedom was lying in bed tangled with his gorgeous mage, thoughts of food a distant but enticing option.

He nuzzled under his mage’s chin, and stubble rasped against the elf’s cheek. His mage’s fluffiness, he’d discovered, started out sharp until he tamed it, and it prickled as Artemis shifted, murmuring sleepily and rubbing his cheek against Fenris’s. Fenris turned his head to give him a good morning kiss.

“I have morning breath,” Artemis protested, voice craggy with sleep. Heavy lids cut his eyes into blue slivers before they slipped closed again.

“As do I,” Fenris rumbled, pressing in for another lazy kiss. “It evens out.”

Artemis made a sleepy sound in protest, but he kissed back, his tongue moving lazily against Fenris’s. The hand not trapped under him stroked up Fenris’s flank to cup the back of his neck, thumb rubbing slow circles in the skin behind Fenris’s ear.

His mage was like a sleepy cat, purring and affectionate where usually their touches were rough and demanding, and Fenris soaked him in like he did the sun. Lazy, lingering kisses, tangling legs, and fingers in his hair. Freedom was, he decided, rather nice, though Fenris suspected his skin would be red where Artie’s whiskers rubbed.

“Te amo, sed…” Fenris murmured. _I love you, but…_ “Tua brasia meum corium abradunt.” _Your kisses abrade my skin._

His mage purred in his ear, chin tipping up in an invitation that Fenris took, nipping under his chin, stroking the long line of his throat. “I love when you Tevene at me,” Artemis said with a lazy smile, hooking a leg over Fenris’s calf and pulling him close.

Fenris’s chuckle was nearly silent, an amused breath against skin. “Do you?”

“Mmm.”

Another biting kiss to the corner of Artemis’s jaw gave him time to think. He could picture Izzy laughing at him, could hear her bad pronunciation as she coaxed him into saying the most sinful things. If he could say them to her, certainly he could say them to his mage.

“Volo,” he said. _I want_. But his sleep-soaked brain stopped there. What _did_ he want? He wanted a great many things, most of them involving the warm body wrapped around his, the friction his mage’s twisting hips promised. “Cupio…” _I desire_ … “Te. Te cupio, Amatus.” _I desire you_.

This time, when he thought of Isabela, it was to picture her making a fart noise into her hand. “ _Weak_ ,” she would groan.

“Tace,” he mumbled, flush hidden against Artemis’s neck. _Shut up._ Why was this still so difficult?

But his mage didn’t seem to mind. The opposite, in fact, from the way he shivered, hips arching more insistently against his elf. “Keep talking,” he begged, stretching up to nibble at one twitching ear.

Fenris huffed, the fingers on his mage’s throat squeezing just enough to wring out a shudder, and Fenris growled his next words in Artemis’s ear. “Quisquam dicere potui, nonne id ames?” _I could say anything, and you would like it, wouldn’t you?_

Artemis didn’t need to understand the question to answer, a desperate sound catching in his throat.

“Garrire de caelo potui.” _I could prattle on about the sky._ “Aut cibo.” _Or about food._ “Quid cenae coquet?” _What will she make for dinner?_ Meaning Orana, of course. But he was not so foolish as to say her name just now.

Artemis’s breathing turned deep and shaky, one hand trailing down to clutch Fenris’s hip, and Fenris followed the rhythm his mage set.

“Illis crustulis fruor quae facit, illis cum malis.” _I like those little cakes she makes, the ones with the apples._ “Sed quoque illis cum citri fruor.” _But I also like the lemon ones._

“Fen,” Artie panted.

“Sed prius ius olfeci…”

The movement under Fenris stilled, and Artemis twisted to look at him. “Did you just say you smelled soup?”

“What?” Fenris’s eyes were the too-wide shape of the guilty.

“I’ve heard both you and Orana talk about her ‘ius’.” He squinted up at Fenris and found his husband looking away in abject mortification. “That _is_ what you said. Sweet Maker. Have you just been talking about _food_ all this time?”

“Amatus…”

Artemis failed to stifle his cackles against Fenris’s shoulder.

“It’s harder than it looks!” Fenris protested, his mage still shaking the bed with his laughter.

“Is it?” Artemis said, mischief in his eyes. “And here it looked plenty hard to me. Let me check.” He reached between them to give Fenris a teasing squeeze, and Fenris swore. “Is it my turn to whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Or perhaps salty nothings, if you’re still fantasizing about soup.”

“Amatus,” Fenris groaned, hiding his face against the pillow.

“Oh, lentils!” Artemis replied with a liquid moan. “Or is that not a sexy enough food? Do you prefer horseradish?” Artemis got a pillow in his face for the efforts, but he was still laughing when he pushed the pillow aside and pulled Fenris down into another kiss.

“Insufferable,” Fenris growled, hiking Artemis’s legs up until Artie wrapped his legs around Fenris’s waist.

“Completely,” Artemis agreed.

In the end, Artemis did most of the talking, all of it begging, and Fenris considered his pride redeemed when the bed shook with something other than laughter.

Freedom was, Fenris decided, worth the wait. Even hours later, when Artemis pinned him with a mischievous smile and started making obscene noises over Orana’s soup.


End file.
